Chapter Text
As the monsters emerged from the muck, clawing their way free with hands of rotting flesh, Sakusa considered turning around and walking in the other direction. He wasn’t getting paid enough for this.
“Rotfiends.” He spat the word like a curse as he reached for the silver sword on his back. “The contract didn’t say anything about fucking rotfiends.”
The contract hadn’t specified any monster at all, to be fair. It had been a plea for help, as some unknown creature was lurking in the swamp to pick off unwary travelers. A dozen had gone missing so far. Sakusa had assumed it was drowners, because he hadn’t thought he was unlucky enough to encounter rotfiends and a swamp at the same unfortunate time.
Dragging his boots through swamp slime for two hours had been bad enough, and now no less than eight rotfiends had begun to appear, an unholy stench rising along with them.
Sakusa had brewed and drank a golden oriole potion to stave off the swamp gas, but it did nothing to protect him from the sensory assault of rotten flesh.
“Two hundred crowns,” he said as the first creature lunged toward him. He spun aside and sliced his sword in a reverse arc, cutting straight through the chest of the rotfiend. It fell to the ground, spasming, its head swelling grotesquely. Sakusa wedged his boot underneath it and sent it flying toward its friends. When the dying rotfiend exploded in its final throes, it took two of the others with it. “That’s what I’m getting for this. Two hundred crowns. I should’ve ripped up the contract and burned it.”
Another rotfiend came toward him. Sakusa met this one head-on, punching his blade straight through a decaying throat. He pulled the sword free as the monster struggled to breathe and took a few quick steps back to avoid the resultant eruption of gore.
Unfortunately he was in a disgusting fucking swamp, and his boot sank so deep in mud that it set him off-balance. He fell back, keeping hold of his sword as he hit the ground. He had time only to blink before the rest of the creatures were on him, blackened teeth gnashing.
Sakusa flung up his left hand and cast a hasty aard, the telekinetic burst sending the rotfiends stumbling. It gave him just enough time to find his feet, behead the nearest one, and dart out of range before it burst.
That left only three, and even in a godforsaken swamp with his potion effects wearing thin, he could dispatch three rotfiends with little effort even on his worst day.
When it was done, Sakusa cleaned off his sword, resheathed it, and stared down at the mangled corpses. He desperately wanted to leave this swamp, collect his measly reward, and never think of it again.
But he could really use these necrophage teeth, if he would get his hands dirty and collect them.
Sakusa sighed, took another hit of the golden oriole potion to stave off the poisonous tickle in the back of his throat, and got to work.
By the time he dragged himself out of the swamp, picked up his crowns from the band of travelers who’d made camp by the dirt road, and thoroughly scrubbed himself down in the nearest river, it was well past dark. Sakusa was exhausted, and his mare’s slow pace suggested she was done for the day, too.
Her name was Clementine. Sakusa hadn’t given her the name, and had attempted to change it dozens of times, but she refused to answer to anything else. She was stubborn, but she was also the best horse he’d ever ridden.
“You didn’t even do anything,” he told Clementine, as they followed the narrow path through some overgrown trees. “I left you outside the swamp. It was a day off for you.”
Clementine didn’t answer. She usually didn’t.
Sakusa sighed and nudged her up to a trot. The worst thing about Velen, aside from the monster infestations and constant warfare, was the lack of civilization. He could ride for hours without seeing another living human, much less a town. There had been one a couple of days ago, before he’d run into the travelers desperate to get through the swamp, but it had been so badly kept that he’d ended up camping in some nearby woods instead of staying in the flea-infested inn.
He’d done a lot of camping lately. He supposed tonight would be the same.
As they followed the trail, Sakusa began to look around for a good place to stop. He didn’t want to go too far off the road, but didn’t want to stay close enough that anyone passing by would notice him, either. He’d been woken from a dead sleep by thieves far too many times, and he wasn’t in the mood to kill anyone tonight.
They crossed over a ravine, and just as Sakusa slowed to guide Clementine off of the trail, he heard a faint voice in the distance. He drew to a stop, going still to listen. The voice was joined by a second, cresting into a laugh, before silence fell again. Sakusa strained his hearing and caught some other sounds, so faint that they were hardly there: a creak of wood, a crackle of flame, a shuffle of footsteps. He urged Clementine further down the trail, and as he rounded a bend and passed through a thick copse of trees, a small settlement emerged in the near distance. It was too small to be an official town, but it was more civilized than most of the villages he’d ridden through over the last fortnight. Most of them had boasted a population of fifty or less, which included a pen full of chickens.
Sakusa approached with caution, on the chance that it turned out to be a particularly advanced bandit camp, but it seemed like a typical Velen community. Houses were scattered about, fully built instead of standing on crumbling foundations. A pair of empty merchant stalls were posted by the gate, likely waiting to open again come morning. Best of all, a notably large building on the crown of a hill was almost certainly an inn.
Sakusa had slept on the ground for a full week. Two nights ago he’d awoken to a hand-sized spider on his face. He was sleeping in that damned inn tonight, no matter the cost.
He steered Clementine onto the branch of dirt road that led to the village and passed beneath a gate. A swinging sign should have declared the name of the town, but the letters were too faded to read. Sakusa didn’t care what it was called, as long as they gave him a bed. He passed by the vacant merchant stalls, and the notice board with its curling parchment posts, and stopped.
He tugged on the reins and eased back to sit in front of the board. A snap of his fingers gave him a handful of flame, a makeshift igni to repel the darkness so he could read the notices.
Most of them were common requests. Someone wanted to trade three chickens for a pig, someone was selling their dead mother’s possessions, someone else was having bad dreams about curdled milk falling from the sky and thought it was a bad omen. One piece of parchment in particular, posted in the corner with weather-faded edges, caught Sakusa’s attention. He pulled it off the board, the edge tearing as it ripped free, and held his flame closer.
Contract: Anyone Who Can Help
There’s a monster in our woods. It’s been killing our livestock for months, and it almost got one of the merchants’ daughters last night. She said it was a giant, and a beast, and it tried to eat her.
Reward offered for anyone who kills the monster.
Sakusa read through it a couple of times, considering. The notice hadn’t been removed, which meant the supposed monster was likely still in the woods somewhere. It said last night, but judging from the state of the parchment, that had been at least a month ago. He wondered if there had been any attacks since then.
Maybe he would stay in town long enough to investigate, if it meant a couple of nights in an actual bed.
He folded the notice, tucked it into the bag slung across his saddle, and rode on toward the inn.
A trough was out front, with another horse tied safely to the rail. Sakusa did the same with Clementine, giving her a pat on the neck as he unstrapped his bag from the saddle. He carried it over his shoulder as he went inside.
Sakusa had been inside many inns on his journeys, hundreds of them, and this one was just the same. There was a collection of drunks in the corner, laughing over nonsense; a barmaid wove through the patrons, dodging interested hands and carrying a pair of drinks; a man meandered up a set of stairs that ostensibly led up to the rooms for rent. That was the most important part of the inn to Sakusa, and he headed toward the back, where a barkeep wiped down a pair of dirty mugs.
Sakusa dropped his bag onto the furthest stool and sat on the one beside it, propping his elbows on the edge of the counter. It was hotter inside than out, which wasn’t entirely pleasant considering the warm weather, but he wasn’t complaining. It wasn’t hot enough that it would keep him awake, and sleeping in comfort was all he cared about.
“Can I help you with something?” asked the barkeep. He stayed where he was, eyeing Sakusa with a touch of suspicion.
That was nothing new. It was a rare day that no one judged Sakusa as an outsider, or a freak, or a number of ruder insults.
“Do you have a room for the night?” asked Sakusa.
“Depends,” said the barkeep. His eyes dipped to Sakusa’s medallion and back up to his face. “You planning to cause trouble?”
If Sakusa hadn’t waded through a swamp and fought a rotting band of monsters earlier that day, he may have had more patience for this conversation.
“I’m fucking tired and I just want a bed,” he said, the words clipped. “Unless you think I’ll pillage the town and burn it to the ground in my sleep, then no, I’m not planning to cause trouble.”
One of the barkeep’s eyebrows rose.
Sakusa’s silent curse was for himself. He’d just guaranteed there wouldn’t be a room for him here, not with such a bad attitude.
“You want food?” asked the barkeep.
Sakusa blinked. “What?”
“Dinner,” he repeated. “The butcher across the street makes a great stew, and he got a fresh deer this morning.”
Sakusa wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything, but considering he hadn’t had a decent meal in a few days, he said, “Sure, I guess.”
The barkeep nodded. “Yuka,” he said. A small head popped up behind the counter, seemingly from nowhere. “Run across the street and ask Osamu to bring over a bowl of stew. We have a guest.”
The little girl blinked up at Sakusa with eyes nearly identical to the barkeep’s before darting off.
“I’ll give you a room,” said the barkeep. His accent wasn’t local. He didn’t seem to have an accent at all, really. Sakusa couldn’t place where he was from. “I’m Rintarou. Friends call me Rin. You can call me Rintarou.”
“Thanks.”
“Just one night?”
“For now,” said Sakusa. Raucous laughter erupted from the far end of the bar and he easily ignored it. “Might stay one more.”
“If you want two nights, I need to know now.” Rintarou chose a clean mug from the shelf behind him and placed it on the counter. His dark hair fell long, past the line of his jaw. “I’ll be away tomorrow night and I don’t trust anyone else with my money. You’ll have to pay for both nights now if you want them. What can I pour you?”
“Mead,” said Sakusa, because that was the easier of the questions to answer. “Sodden if you have it. I’ll take anything else if you don’t.” He watched Rintarou pour the drink, thinking.
It wasn’t in his nature to stay in one place for very long, unless that place was Kaer Morhen, and he only ever went there because he felt an obligation to return. Landing anywhere else for more than a night made him feel uncomfortable, as if he was wasting valuable time.
He didn’t think he’d been such a vagabond before becoming a witcher. When he was younger he quite liked staying at home, because he quite liked avoiding other people.
But one extra night didn’t seem like much of a waste, especially if he looked into the town’s monster problem while he was there. That was an easy way to justify the stay. He would earn back whatever money he put into the inn for his room and board.
As Rintarou slid the mead across the counter – sodden, as requested – Sakusa said, “I’ll take two nights.”
Rintarou nodded. “Fine. I’ll throw in the first drink on the house but you’ll be paying for the rest. You’ll pay Osamu for the stew too but it’ll be well worth the crowns.” He frowned down at Sakusa and added, “You cause problems, I’ll kick you out and keep your money. I’ve done it before.”
Sakusa didn’t answer. There was no point. He’d already said he wasn’t planning to cause trouble. If Rintarou hadn’t believed it the first time, repeating himself wouldn’t help.
As Sakusa sipped his mead, Rintarou gave him a price and Sakusa paid it without argument. He would have paid twice as much if he’d been in the northern areas of Velen, and three times as much in Novigrad. Maybe there were benefits to roaming the countryside after all.
“Fresh bowl of venison stew.” The voice spoke behind Sakusa right before a bowl was pushed onto the counter in front of him. It was covered by a cloth, likely to keep it warm. “Best food you’ll get in town.”
Sakusa turned slightly on his stool to study the man who’d approached. He was broad-shouldered, barely shorter than Rintarou the barkeep but sturdier. Sakusa wondered if there was a fighting ring in town, because this man – Osamu, based on context – would be a frontrunner from build alone.
“Thanks,” said Sakusa. He lifted the edge of the cloth to peer at the stew beneath. His hopes weren’t high, but it looked surprisingly good, and smelled even better. “How much?”
“Just pay Rin, he’ll get me the crowns later,” said Osamu. Apparently he was friends with the barkeep if he was permitted to call him Rin. He paced a few steps away and slouched onto one of the stools, keeping a polite distance from Sakusa. He nodded at Rintarou and said, “Pour me a stout, would ya? You owe me a couple drinks.”
“I don’t owe you shit,” said Rintarou, even as he reached for a mug.
They talked amongst themselves, voices nearly lost in the roar of more laughter from the less sober patrons. Sakusa disregarded all of them as he dipped out a cautious spoonful of stew. He took a careful sniff, to make sure nothing questionable had been added, but it smelled good. More than good. He tasted it, and closed his eyes as the flavor sank in. This stew was the best thing he’d eaten in the past month. Longer, maybe.
“Good, right?” said a voice from far too close. “Killed the deer myself this mornin’. Perfect shot, arrow right through the heart.”
Sakusa opened his eyes to find that Osamu had chosen to change seats and was now sitting directly beside him, so close that their knees were almost touching.
Except something was different, his posture and his smile and the gleam in his eyes.
Sakusa’s first thought was doppler, but he’d never met a doppler stupid enough to mimic a human three stools down from him, which was where Osamu still sat as if nothing was wrong.
It was a more normal explanation, then. Brothers. Twins. Almost identical, but not quite. This twin’s eyes were a shade lighter, the same as his hair. It was almost unnoticeable, and if Sakusa didn’t have heightened senses, he likely wouldn’t have picked out the subtle difference.
This twin’s eyebrows slowly rose. “What, it’s not good? Blame ‘Samu for that, the deer was fine until he touched it.”
Sakusa looked back down at the stew. “It’s fine.”
“Just fine?” repeated the twin. “Yeah, ‘Samu definitely fucked it up.”
“Shaddup, ‘Tsumu.”
“Want another drink?” said the twin, unbothered. He gestured at Sakusa’s half-empty mug of mead. “My treat. I’m Atsumu, by the way. Who’re you?”
That was too much conversation in one breath, and it was too friendly for Sakusa not to be suspicious. He eyed Atsumu again, searching for menace or disgust behind the gloss of his benevolence, but there was nothing. His smile seemed genuine.
“Sure,” said Sakusa. “Thanks.”
Atsumu’s bright smile brightened even more. He swiveled to call out to Rin – apparently both twins were on a friendly basis with the barkeep – and requested another mead for Sakusa before turning back toward him.
“You didn’t say who you are.” Atsumu propped an elbow on the counter and rested his chin in his palm. “What can I call ya?”
Rintarou didn’t have the accent of the Velen countryside, but the twins certainly did.
“Sakusa.”
“Sakusa?” repeated Atsumu. “Sounds formal.”
“It’s the name I tell strangers when I don’t want them to know my given name.”
“Oh,” said Atsumu. “What’s your given name then?”
Sakusa shrugged one shoulder as Rintarou placed another drink in front of him. “You’re a stranger.”
Atsumu laughed, a scatter of dark copper hair falling into his eyes for only a second before he brushed it away again. Just like his brother, he was built strongly and would do well in a fight if he’d ever been taught to throw a punch. But unlike Osamu, he didn’t have the air of someone who belonged in a fighting ring, even if he was destined to win. It was something about his smile. Someone with a smile like that shouldn’t coexist with violence.
“How long are you in town?” asked Atsumu, undeterred by Sakusa’s short answers. “Stayin’ a while?”
“Two nights.” Sakusa drained the last of his first mead, set it aside, and pulled the fresh one closer.
“That’s not very long.”
“Long enough.”
“Nah. Takes way longer than two nights to appreciate the town.”
Sakusa raised a brow. “Not exactly much to see.”
“Sure there is,” said Atsumu, “if ya know where to look.”
“And I suppose you know?”
“’Course I do.” Atsumu leaned closer, just barely, still smiling at Sakusa. “I’d be happy to show ya.”
Sakusa scooped up another bite of stew, still studying Atsumu as he considered that.
Sakusa wasn’t usually welcome in whatever towns or cities he happened across, but he was no stranger to the occasional flirtation. Usually it was in Novigrad, where he was frequently propositioned by the working girls. More rarely it was a bold young woman in a smaller town, desperate for a taste of something new with no idea that Sakusa had never desired the touch of a woman in his life. Almost never was it a man, and even then the odds were practically non-existent that he was attracted to any of those men.
But the stars must have aligned in Sakusa’s favor when he found this inn, because Atsumu was nothing like the usual men who came onto him.
Buying two nights may have been a good decision. It had been a very long time since Sakusa had spent the night with anyone, and if Atsumu kept looking at him like that, the chances were good that Sakusa wouldn’t be alone in his room tonight.
Sakusa took a long drink of mead, still watching Atsumu, and wiped his mouth with the cloth that had been folded over his bowl. “What would you show me,” asked Sakusa, neutrally, “if I did want to appreciate the town?”
Atsumu’s smile shifted into a smirk, his eyes gleaming. “Upstairs is a good place to start. I’ll show you to your room, make sure you’re comfortable.”
Sakusa could count on one hand the number of times he had gotten into bed with a stranger. It wasn’t typical for him, and at most times the thought of it disgusted him.
But also atypical was Sakusa’s interest in seeing how well Atsumu was built beneath his clothes.
“Think I can’t find my room on my own?” asked Sakusa.
“It’s a long way up those stairs,” said Atsumu, nodding toward them with a grin. “Might get lost. Can’t be too careful these days.”
Sakusa hummed. “You might be right. The town monster could snatch me up at any moment.”
He had meant it as a quip, to give Atsumu an opportunity to keep up his banter, but that bright smile faltered.
Atsumu blinked at him, face going blank. “Huh?”
Sakusa cursed himself for saying anything at all. He should have kept his mouth shut, but he couldn’t just pretend he hadn’t spoken, so he repeated, “The monster. Saw a notice about it when I rode into town.”
Atsumu stared at Sakusa, the moment stretching too long to be comfortable, and his stare dipped down to Sakusa’s chest. Atsumu’s blank expression shifted into something hard, guarded.
Sakusa was disappointed, but not by the situation. He was disappointed in himself for not expecting this.
“You’re a… Oh.” It seemed to take great effort for Atsumu to tear his gaze away from Sakusa’s medallion. When he did, he resolutely stared at the shelves behind the bar rather than looking Sakusa’s way again. “I didn’t realize.”
Sakusa said nothing. That was a clear end to the conversation. He finished his stew and wondered if Rintarou would refund the cost of his room for tomorrow night so he could be on the road again in the morning.
He waited for Atsumu to get up and walk away, and judging by the impatient tapping of Atsumu’s fingers, that was exactly what he wanted to do. Still, he didn’t move.
“So,” said Atsumu after a moment, not looking at him. “Is that why you’re here? To look for the monster?”
“I’m here to get a good night’s sleep. That’s all.” Sakusa pushed his empty bowl away. “As I said, I saw the notice when I came through the gate.”
Atsumu gave him a sidelong glance. “So you’re not gonna look for the monster then?”
“Not sure,” said Sakusa. “Thought about it, since I’m here already. Sounds like easy money.”
“They didn’t put that notice up for a… for a witcher,” said Atsumu, spitting the word like it was poison. “It was for a hunter or somebody. Obviously there’s not a monster, it was an overgrown bear or somethin’. I went lookin’ for it last month when all that happened but there was no sign of it. It’s moved on and hasn’t come back since. There’s no point wastin’ your time.”
“There might still be some coin in it for me if I can prove it was a bear,” said Sakusa, taking note of Atsumu’s reaction. “That doesn’t sound like a waste of time.”
Atsumu’s glare was sharp enough to slice. “Aren’t you listenin’ to me? I said we don’t want your help. It’s our problem and we don’t need somebody like you-”
“That’s enough, ‘Tsumu.” Osamu dropped a heavy hand on Atsumu’s shoulder. “C’mon, leave the guy alone.”
“Get off me. I’m just tryin’ to— Let me go, I mean it!”
True to Sakusa’s earlier suspicion about his strength, Osamu heaved Atsumu off of the barstool and dragged him off to the corner, heedless of his struggling.
“What the fuck, ‘Samu?” snapped Atsumu, his voice audible only because Sakusa was focusing. Enhanced senses were particularly convenient for eavesdropping. “He needs to get outta here. He’s a—”
“I know he’s a witcher, idiot,” said Osamu. “I knew the second I saw him. You should’ve, too.”
“How was I supposed to know? I’ve never seen one.”
“The swords,” said Osamu flatly. “The wolf necklace thing. The black gear, even. Damn, you’re dumber than I thought.”
“I’m not dumb,” argued Atsumu. “I just wasn’t payin’ attention.”
“Yeah, you were too busy thinkin’ about how much you wanted to f—”
“Shut up.” Atsumu’s stare darted over his brother’s shoulder and caught Sakusa’s. “Shit. Can he hear us?”
Sakusa gave a lazy wave, just because he thought it would anger Atsumu.
He was right. Atsumu was furious.
“That freaky bastard.”
“That’s enough.” Osamu hooked an arm around Atsumu’s neck and dragged him toward the door. “Go home. I’m gonna lock up the butcher shop and I’ll meet you there. Don’t harass the witcher anymore.”
As they reached the door, Atsumu dug his heels in. He whipped his head around, but instead of glaring at Sakusa, his stare snagged on the barkeep.
“Does Rin know?” whispered Atsumu, his voice nearly lost to the din of background noise.
“’Course he does,” said Osamu. “He’s not as stupid as you are.”
With one final yank, Osamu dragged his twin out of the inn. Sakusa stared after them, his suspicion outweighing his dissatisfaction with the way his night had gone.
Something strange was happening here, and the twins were clearly hiding something.
Sakusa searched through his bag until he found the notice he’d plucked from the board on his way into town. He smoothed it out on the counter, read through it again, and flipped it over. On the back was a name, likely of the person who’d posted the contract. He folded up the parchment, tucked it away again, and left a few crowns on the counter to pay for his meal and Clementine’s board. As he headed upstairs, aware of Rintarou watching him from behind the bar, Sakusa decided it was good that he’d booked two nights, after all.
Tonight he was going to sleep better than he had in the past month, and tomorrow he would find a monster.